Mallory phoned that afternoon to let Belle know that Regina wouldn't be able to catch a flight until Christmas Eve. New York was being pummeled with snow and flights were scarce at the moment. Belle breathed a sigh of relief that she wouldn't have the attorney breathing down her neck. It also gave her a reason to speak to Gold.

Rumford didn't make his presence known that evening, and Belle missed him. She'd liked falling asleep next to him the night before. It was comforting and intimate and now that had been ruined by a misunderstanding. She'd tried calling out to him, but he didn't answer and she had no way of knowing if he could hear her.

The next morning she decided to head into town and visit the Bed & Breakfast. She was pulling a turtleneck on over her head when she suddenly sensed his presence.

Pulling her head through the hole, Belle whipped around, looking for him.

"I'm right here, dearie," his voice called from behind her. Belle turned to see him materializing next to the foot of her bed.

"How long have you been there?" she demanded.

"I didn't peek," he protested.

Belle ignored him, walking over to the wardrobe to pull out her boots and stuffing her feet into them.

"Where are you going?" he asked.

"If you'd answered any of my calls since yesterday morning, maybe you'd know that," Belle sniffed. She knew his feelings had been hurt, thinking she'd only taken an interest in his story because she wanted to use him as a draw to the castle. But she was hurt too. She'd done nothing but try to help him since they'd met and yet he was still suspicious of her.

"I was …angry," he said haltingly. "Given due reflection, I may have overreacted."

"You think?" Belle asked, cocking her head.

"I'm sorry, Belle," he said softly. "I shouldn't have assumed you were trying to use me. I haven't had many people care about me in my life. Even less in my afterlife. It takes some getting used to."

His eyes were wide in his pale face, beseeching her to understand. And she did. Not many people had ever cared about her either. It was hard to let people in when you were used to being let down.

"Apology accepted," Belle nodded. "In answer to your question, I'm going down to the village."

"Why?"

"The man who was here yesterday, the one you sensed? I think he may be exactly who we've been looking for."

Rumford seemed to perk up at that.

"Who is he?"

"His name is Tristan Gold and he looks like your bloody doppelgänger. He has to be a relative."

"I don't remember any Gold's in the family," Rumford said with a quirked brow. "And what are the odds that he would show up here, exactly when we need him?"

"It all seems like some colossal coincidence," Belle agreed. "But what are the odds of you sensing my presence for no apparent reason and waking up? What are the odds of ghosts existing at all? A week ago I had no knowledge of curses and witches and spirits and yet here we are. Maybe things are happening for a reason. There are more things in heaven and earth, after all."

Rumford smiled at her callback to their first meeting.

"Indeed."

Belle borrowed the castle's lone truck, used mostly for grounds keeping, and headed down the winding narrow road to the village.

It turned out she didn't need to go far. She was just entering the town when she spotted Mr. Gold walking along the side of the street and she pulled over quickly, throwing the car into park.

"Mr. Gold!" she called, hopping out of the cab of the truck and scurrying around to his side.

"Miss French," he returned, looking slightly confused. "What brings you down from your castle in the clouds?"

"I just wanted to let you know that Miss Fitz's attorney won't be able to get here until the 24th," she said as politely as possible.

"So I get to spend my holiday in the middle of nowhere," Gold grimaced. "How lovely."

"Or you could lift the injunction," Belle said sweetly. "You'd be back with your family in time for Christmas and everyone would be happy."

"Thank you for your concern, Miss French, but I have no family to get back to," he said with a smirk. "I'm more than happy to wait things out here with you."

Belle's smile soured slightly at that. But she needed information on this man. He could be Rumford's last hope.

"In that case why don't you join me for dinner at the castle tonight. Just because we're on either side of the case doesn't mean we can't be friends. And we are stuck here in the middle of nowhere after all."

Gold eyed her as if waiting for her to retract the offer.

"Attempting to get me drunk or seducing me won't do you any favors, Miss French," he said with narrowed eyes. The expression looked so much like Rumford it nearly knocked her back a step.

"Excuse me?" she asked, slightly outraged. "I can assure you I'm above debasing myself over the sale of a property. I only thought that since we were both alone at Christmas it might be charitable to invite you to dinner."

"My apologies," he said finally. "I'd be delighted. But only because the food at the inn is terrible."

Belle forced a smile.

"I look forward to seeing you. Dinner is at eight."

Belle rushed back to the castle, stopping in to let Mrs. Potts know they'd have an extra person for dinner, and then heading back up to the library.

She couldn't shake the feeling that the room contained something of importance, something that would help her achieve their goals.

She made a circle around the room, trailing her fingers along the spines of the books on the shelves when she was suddenly drawn to one book in particular. It was the same one she'd wanted to look at when Mrs. Potts had interrupted her on her first trip to the library. She'd completely forgotten about it in the time since.

It was an unassuming, battered, leather bound book, slimmer in volume than the ones surrounding it. If she hadn't felt it pulling on her, she might not have even noticed it.

She pulled the book out carefully, the stiff leather crackling beneath her fingertips with age. She was almost afraid it might disintegrate in her hands.

Cracking back the cover, she realized it was yet another journal, only shelved in the wrong area. It had been sandwiched between two encyclopedias.

The handwriting was smudged with age, the ink faded in places to where she could barely make out the words.

Belle retreated to the library table, laying the book out in front of her and grabbing a magnifying glass she had used on some of the other handwritten books.

The entries were all written in French, dated from 1583. She wondered if Rumford had ever seen it, but hadn't he told her himself that he was no good with languages?

After skimming a few pages, Belle understood that it was a record kept by the village's Justice of the Peace, noting local disputes, petty crimes and, more interestingly, the trials of those accused of witchcraft.

Belle felt the breath catch in her chest as she scanned an entry from April of 1583. A woman named Margaret Lacey had been accused of witchcraft by Lord Bedlay after his son was taken sick. It was said that Mrs. Lacey had put a pox on Lord Bedlay's heir after he had been given lands by the crown that the Lacey's were farming.

After a trial that lasted two days in which several villagers came forward with testimony against Mrs. Lacey, she was convicted of witchcraft and sentenced to death via strangulation and burning.

Belle felt slightly sick at the description of the trial that seemed like a practice in political theatre rather than a fair chance at justice.

The last paragraph of the entry noted that Margaret Lacey had cursed Lord Bedlay after the sentence was pronounced, and Belle nearly dropped the book in shock.

The guilty party did threaten Lord Bedlay that his ill gotten lands should never pass from his family's hands, but their blood would linger in the dirt for eternity and never should they be fated to leave that place unless the sons of Lord Bedlay find love in their hearts for the sons of the Lacey family.

Belle did drop the book at that, the spine cracking and loose pages spilling out.

"Rumford!" she yelled, not caring that Mrs. Potts or any of the other staff might hear her calling for a ghost, not even caring that she'd just maimed a precious book. "Rum, come quick!"

A moment later he materialized just inside the doorway.

"What is it?" he asked, his voice concerned.

"I found it," she replied breathlessly, bending the pick the tattered journal up off the floor. "I don't know how, but this book, it was like it was calling to me. And now it all makes sense, why I'm here, why I feel so drawn to you. It's all here!"

"What is it?" he repeated, crossing the room to her.

"I'm not here just to help you pass the curse on," she said, holding the book out to his ghostly hands. "I'm here to break it."

Rumford looked at her skeptically, taking the book from her outstretched hand and flipping it open.

"It's all in French," he said dryly. Belle rolled her eyes that her prediction that she spoke better French than her friend appeared to be true.

She grabbed the book out of his hands, flipping back to the notable passages and reading them aloud.

"So, what?" he asked after she had finished, clearly still confused. "Now we not only have to find an heir to Lord Bedlay, we have to find the descendant of this peasant woman as well? Belle, that's never going to happen."

But Belle just shook her head, tears springing to her eyes.

"My mother's maiden name was Lacey," she said with a shuddering breath. "I think it's me."

"You're a Lacey?" he asked breathlessly. "That must be why I felt you, why I sensed you. Some part of me knew you were the key to breaking the curse."

Belle nodded, biting her lip. After days of worry, she'd found a way to save her friend. She was so happy for him, but at the same time terrified. If she broke his curse, he could move on, and she'd never see him again.

"So what does it mean?" he continued. "You have to get a Duncan to fall in love with you?"

Belle shrugged. "I think that might do the trick."

"Your Mr. Gold," Rumford said, the smile slipping from his face. "I sensed him as well. He must be the other half of this."

It wasn't exactly what Belle had been thinking, but she couldn't fault his logic. But couldn't Rumford see? He was still the descendant of Lord Bedlay, even if he currently found himself without a body.

"It's a good thing I invited him to dinner," she said sadly. "Though I imagine it'll take more than a decent ragout to break a curse."

"Who could help but fall in love with you?" Rumford returned with a nod. "I should be gone by morning."

His words were like a knife through her heart. To think that it was possible she'd never see him again. And all she had to do was get an attorney who hadn't shown the least bit of interest in her to fall for her in the course of the next few days as they sat on opposite sides of a legal dispute.

Now if Rumford loved her that would make things simultaneously much easier and much harder. But from the way he'd thrown out Gold's name, she thought there was little chance of that.

"Great," she agreed, her voice flat and emotionless.

"You don't sound so happy about it," Rumford observed with narrowed eyes. "Disappointed to lose your tourist trap?"

Belle felt as though she'd been slapped. How could he bring that up again?

"Is that really what you think?" she demanded. "Your apology was for nothing, then. You think I want a haunted castle, to parade you around to guests to fill up vacancies? If you think that you're a bloody fool."

"Why are you helping me, then?" he asked bitterly. "You're young and alive. You should be out enjoying that instead of settled in with a musty old spirit. I don't want your pity."

"I'm not helping you out of pity!"

"Then why?" he demanded. "Why go to all this trouble for a man you've only just met. A man who can never repay you?"

"Because I think it's unfair that your fate was determined by the sins of an ancestor you never met," she cried. "Because you're a good man who doesn't deserve the hand he was dealt. And because in spite of the fact that I want to help you move on and be at rest, and this can only end one way, I'm falling in love with you."

Belle clapped a hand over her mouth, startled by what she'd just said out loud. She'd been trying to deny her feelings, trying to ignore the way her stomach fluttered at the thought of Rumford. She knew this would just make it harder to let go. But now she'd said it, she didn't want to take it back.

Rumford was staring at her with wide eyes, his chest heaving with the breaths he wasn't actually breathing.

"Love?" he croaked, his voice raw with emotion.

Belle nodded, blinking away the tears that threatened to fall.

"I love you," she said in a small voice. "I know it's stupid and I know you don't feel the same way and even if you did it's not like anything could come of it but…"

"I love you too," he cut across her stream of words. "So very much, my beautiful Belle."

She let out a desperate little laugh, her heart exploding with joy inside her chest, only to be tempered by the overwhelming fear that he would fade away at any moment. They loved each other, and their love was doomed.

Rumford reached forward, cupping her cheek as he'd done the other night in her bed. The faint tingling sensation of his hand against her skin sent a shiver up her spine.

"You must know this cannot end happily."

"I know, but I can't help how I feel." She let out a mirthless laugh. "It's so like me to find the perfect man only for him to have been dead for a century."

"No one I met in my mortal lifetime ever looked at me the way you do," he said sadly. "Not even my wife."

They gazed at each other for a long moment, Rumford's hand still lingering against her cheek. She wondered briefly if he might kiss her. She wanted him to desperately.

"I wish I could kiss you," he sighed, as if reading her thoughts.

"Can't you?"

Rumford shook his head. "I'm afraid it takes all my concentration to manipulate matter. There's no possible way I'd be able to keep that up whilst kissing you. It wouldn't feel right for you anyway."

"I don't care," Belle said with a shake of her head.

"I'm not really here," he shrugged. "I'm energy without a body. I'm little more than fog."

"You're real to me," she cried, the tears finally slipping down her cheeks. "This is the realest thing I've ever felt."

"And yet I'm still not enough," he sighed sadly, dropping his hand from her cheek and stepping away.

"What are you talking about?" she sniffled.

"I'm still here," Rumford spread his arms wide. "A son of Lord Bedlay found love in his heart for a daughter of the Lacey's and yet the curse isn't broken. The only way I'll move on, the only way I'll ever see my son again, is if you fall in love with someone else."

"No," Belle protested, shaking her head vehemently. "Maybe there's another interpretation. Maybe my French is bad. Maybe there's more to it."

"And maybe you need to find someone living."

He blinked out, disappearing before her very eyes just as there was a sharp knock on the library door.

"Miss French," Mrs. Potts called. "Dinner will be served within the hour."

Belle quickly wiped at her cheeks, darting downstairs to change and freshen up. She had no intention of wooing Tristan Gold, but she could at least look presentable. She had no doubt he was related to Rumford, but she wanted to know how. If she was going to ask invasive questions, she needed to be enticing.

She dashed a bit of perfume behind her ears, pulling on a deep blue cocktail dress and heels before heading downstairs. She was distracted, wishing Rumford was by her side. She only hoped he'd be able to listen in as she talked to Gold.

Mr. Gold arrived at 8:00 on the dot and she led him to the formal dining room. She'd rarely eaten there since she arrived at Bedlay, preferring to sit in the kitchen with Mrs. Potts during her meals. The dining room felt big and imposing and Belle could barely choke down the dinner Mrs. Potts had prepared. She reached for her wine instead, taking long sips and trying to quell the sick feeling roiling in her stomach.

She loved Rumford, she wanted only him, and she could never have him. To hope for him to stay behind with her, remain a specter bound to the crumbling stone edifice of Bedlay Castle was the worst sort of selfishness. But damn it all, that's exactly what she wanted.

With the storm of emotions whirling through her mind, Belle was a tedious dinner partner. For his part, Gold didn't seem much for conversation and they passed the meal mostly in silence. It was only after the plates had been cleared away and Mrs. Potts discreetly let her know that she'd be heading home for the night that the conversation turned to the topic of Belle's interest.

"So, why do you have so much interest in Bedlay?" she asked Gold, as he reclined in his dining chair opposite her.

"What makes you think I do?" he returned.

"You've come all the way here only a couple days before Christmas to stop the sale of the property," she observed. "Either you're a very dedicated attorney for a pro bono client or you have a vested interest."

He looked at her appraisingly for a long moment before answering.

"My grandfather lived here as a child," he said with a shrug. "He always spoke so fondly of it, like he thought of it as home even though he hadn't been here in decades."

"What was your grandfather's name?"

"Neal Gold," he said with a smile. "A great man. My father, Henry, was his only son and I'm an only child as well. Now that they've passed I don't have much family to speak of, hence my being alone at the holidays."

"Was your father a servant here?" she asked, biting her lip. Was it possible his father had run off with a lady of the house? A sister or cousin of Rumford's? She thought a scandal like that would have been easy to find.

Gold looked at her shrewdly. "Why the sudden interest in my family history, Miss French?"

Belle was never good at deception. She had an open face, one you could read easily. She couldn't tell this man the whole truth though.

"I've been researching about the house and its former occupants," she lied smoothly. "I found photographs of a Rumford Duncan. You look strikingly like him."

"And here I thought I reminded you of a friend," he smirked. "What exactly are you getting at?"

Belle took a sip of her wine, drinking it down to give herself courage.

"I think you're the real heir of this castle. I think you're a direct descendant of the original Lord Bedlay."

Gold sat back in his chair with an enigmatic smile. He swirled the wine in his glass, taking a sip before turning his attention back to her.

"What is your basis for this conjecture beyond my bearing a passing resemblance to a photograph of someone who used to live here?"

"Your interest in the property," she shot back. "Why would a man who's apparently made millions helping to develop historical properties suddenly want to protect one?"

"You've researched me," he said delightedly. "I'm flattered, Miss French."

"So what is your plan, Mr. Gold?" she asked. "Having the sale revert to the state only to mysteriously uncover proof of your own paternity and lay claim to the castle yourself?"

Gold set down his wine glass, leaning forward against the table on his elbows.

"You're quite clever, Miss French. But the law is on my side. There's nothing you can do to stop me."

"I don't want to stop you," she returned, and the smug look on Gold's face melted away to be replaced by confusion. "I just want to know how you're related to the Duncans."

He eyed her for a long moment, sizing her up. Belle had the uncomfortable feeling that he could read her mind. He must have approved of what he found, however, because he continued.

"My grandfather, Neal Gold, his real name was Bailey Duncan. He was the only son and heir of Rumford Duncan, the last Lord Bedlay."

Belle let out a gasp at his revelation.

"Bailey Duncan died at the Battle of the Somme," she countered, shaking her head. All of a sudden she could feel Rumford's presence; sense his agitation. "His body was delivered back here. It's buried in the family graveyard."

"It wasn't him," Gold said with a shrug. "My grandfather swapped his dog tags with a fallen soldier. The body was so mangled that he got away with it. Bravery, I'm afraid, does not run in my family."

"You're saying your grandfather deserted?" she asked breathlessly. Beside her she could sense Rumford, anger and confusion radiating off him in waves as surely as if she could see his face.

"It was more than that," Gold attempted to justify. "He was an only son and he knew his father worried for the future of his estate. He was only seventeen at the time and he reacted foolishly out of fear. He was a child who never should have been in that situation. My grandfather regretted that decision for the rest of his life."

"Then why not come clean?" Belle asked. "Why change his name, and continue to let the world think he was dead?"

"He didn't want to besmirch the Duncan name," Gold replied. "Family was important to my grandfather. When he came back from France he found out his father had committed suicide. There was nothing left for him here at Bedlay so he left it behind. He moved to Glasgow, met my grandmother and reinvented himself."

"So why are you coming forward now?"

"The opportunity presented itself," he said with a flourish. "My distant cousin, Mr. Victor Whale, fell on hard times and tried to sell. It was the perfect time to act."

Belle nodded. She could see the sense of his plan.

"Now I have a few questions of my own, if you don't mind," Gold said, pulling her from her reverie. "Why is a young woman such as yourself so concerned with the history of a family she's never even met? Why is she acting against her employer? Why is she here at all?"

Belle felt a slight pressure against her shoulder, almost as though someone had placed their hand there. Rumford. He was giving her permission she realized. He was telling her she could speak the truth.

"I know about the curse," she said softly. "I'm attempting to break it."

Gold quirked his brow. "That old story my grandfather used to tell?" he asked. "A Duncan must always be at Bedlay and all that?"

"It's real," Belle continued. "I wouldn't have believed it myself, but then I met your great-grandfather…"

Gold held his hand up to silence her.

"My great-grandfather died in 1916," he said through gritted teeth.

"Yes," Belle agreed. "And because of that curse, he's still here."

There was a tingling sensation to Belle's right side and she knew Rumford had become visible even before she turned her head to see him. Gold's mouth dropped open, the man looking equal parts fascinated and terrified.

"So you're my great-grandson," Rumford said with awe. "My son lived. He had a family, a son of his own, a whole life?"

Gold just nodded, watching Rumford with wide eyes.

"He lived," Rum repeated wonderingly, running a hand through his hair.

"How?" Gold asked, standing and walking around Rumford as though he'd find evidence that it was all some elaborate hoax. "How are you real?"

"As Belle said, the curse is real. I'm bound to Bedlay Castle until the next heir dies or the curse is broken. Bailey was spared the curse because his final resting place isn't here."

"How do you break it?" Gold asked, coming to stand in front of his ancestor and marveling at their resemblance.

"Love," Belle answered. "Between a descendant of the witch who cast the curse and the descendant of Lord Bedlay. I thought we'd found a way, but it didn't work."

She smiled sadly at Rumford who returned her smile, reaching out to squeeze her shoulder once more.

"Between the two of you?" Gold asked skeptically. "But he's a ghost."

"And you're rude," Belle countered, standing from her spot at the table.

Rumford stifled a laugh from beside her at the affronted look on Gold's face.

"Thank you for the outrage, darling," he chuckled. "But I'm afraid one must get used to it if your true love is a specter."

A sudden thought struck Belle, one she'd been aching to try for days but only now did the magnanimity of the action become clear to her.

"True love," she whispered. "Rumford, that's it!"

Both men were looking at her with identical expressions of confusion on their faces.

"Mr. Gold," Belle said, eyes shining with the conviction of what she was about to do. "May we borrow your body for a moment?"

"What?" he asked, startled.

"I promise you'll get it right back."

"Belle," Rumford interrupted. "What are you doing?"

"Possess him," she said sadly, gesturing at Gold. "You're only moments away from freedom."

The two men shared a look of skepticism before Rumford stepped forward, his pale ghostly form merging with Gold's for a moment before he disappeared, leaving a stunned looking Gold.

"Belle?" he rasped out.

"Rumford?" she gasped, reaching forward to cup his cheeks, staring into his eyes intently. "It's you."

"Belle!" he exclaimed, grabbing her and pulling her into his arms. "I can feel you," he marveled, stroking the skin of her arms. "I can smell you," he buried his face against her hair breathing her in. "You look so lovely tonight, my dear."

Belle snuggled against his borrowed chest, holding him tight for what would be the first and last time.

"Do you trust me?" she asked, her voice muffled against Gold's jacket.

"Of course I do, sweetheart," he said, pulling back from her and stroking her hair back from her face. "I love you."

Belle nodded. "Then kiss me," she said sadly, tears pooling in her eyes. "You finally can."

Rumford looked confused for a moment before comprehension seemed to dawn across his face.

"Belle," he sputtered. "I…"

"You'll be free," she repeated. "You'll be with Bailey. You won't be bound to this place anymore."

"But I'll lose you," he rasped, tears spilling from Gold's dark brown eyes.

"To keep you here when it's within my power to set you free would be a selfish act," she said, shaking her head. "I can't ask that of you."

Rumford looked stricken, caught somewhere between hope and desperation. His hands traced her face as if trying to memorize her every feature.

"I wish we could have met in another life, Belle. I wish I'd met when you when I was living. But I'm happy to have met you all the same."

Belle couldn't say anything more. If she did, she would lose her resolve, she would never have the strength to let him go.

"I love you," she rasped out before twining her fingers in his shaggy hair and pulling him down to kiss her, his lips caressing hers gently, almost reverently.

She opened her mouth to him, letting him stroke his tongue against hers as the tears continued to fall. But all too soon he was pulling away, a strange look on his face.

"I can feel it, Belle."

"It's like the storybooks," she said sadly, cradling his face. "True love's kiss can break any curse."

"Kiss me again," he smiled, his eyes lighting up. "It's working."

So she did, pouring every ounce of her love and pain and heartbreak into one single kiss.

"I love you," he murmured against her lips. "But I'm afraid I have to go now."

Belle nodded, pulling away. She watched in awe as Rumford separated himself from Gold, the latter's body slumping to the ground as he left.

"I'll see you in another life," he told Belle with a wink. And then he turned around and faded into a beam of light that was there one moment and gone the next.

Belle collapsed into her dining chair, sobs wracking her body. She had broken the curse. No heir of Bedlay Castle would ever be cursed again. It was a good thing. But she felt as though he heart had shattered.

A low groan came from the floor next to the table and Belle gasped. She'd almost forgotten about poor Mr. Gold.

"What…" he looked around blearily. "What happened?"

"Are you alright, Mr. Gold?" she asked, dropping to the floor beside him.

"I was telling you about my sordid family history," he said slowly. "Did I pass out?"

Belle stifled a giggle. "Perhaps you had a bit too much to drink," she said diplomatically. "Perhaps I should set you up in one of the guest rooms. I wouldn't want you driving in such a state."

Mr. Gold looked up at her questioningly. "Did I kiss you?"

"Yes," Belle snorted. "But don't worry, it was lovely."

Gold still seemed out of it, Belle having to help him up the stairs and get him settled in a guest bed. She'd never been possessed herself, but she imagined it must take a lot out of a person.

After getting her dinner guest to sleep, Belle found her way back to her own bedroom only for her eyes to fall on her battered copy of Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone still sitting on the table next to the fireplace.

The thought that Rumford would never get to find out the innocence of Professor Snape had her heart shattering all over again.

She knew she should be happy. She'd known from early on this was the only way this could end. But as she wrapped herself up in her blankets and cried herself to sleep, it didn't seem to make much of a difference.

Belle awoke the next morning feeling puffy and dehydrated from crying. She realized with a start that it was Christmas Eve. Regina would be arriving today, expecting to fight to keep Bedlay Castle, but Belle found herself wanting nothing more than for it to pass on to Rumford's descendant. Even without the curse, she thought her love would always want a Duncan at Bedlay.

She washed her face and got dressed, preparing to face the day after both finding and losing her True Love. Belle had come to Scotland because she didn't want to be lonely anymore. Now she found herself feeling more alone than ever.

It was with a feeling of numbness that she headed down to the entry hall, only to come face to face with Mr. Gold.

"Oh!" she exclaimed. "Mr. Gold, are you feeling better after last night?"

She still wasn't sure how much he remembered, if his mind rebelled at the idea of the unexplainable so much that he completely blocked out Rumford and the curse.

"Belle," he replied, looking at her strangely. His tongue darted out to flick along his bottom lip and Belle was entranced by the motion. She'd noticed Rumford had the same habit of licking his lips when in conversation. "I'm fine, dear. I hope I wasn't too much trouble."

"None at all," she assured him. "As it is, it's good you're here. I think Miss Fitz's attorney should be here any moment.

He nodded, his hands fidgeting.

"I had the strangest dream last night," he said, brow wrinkling with concentration. "Something about ghosts and my senile grandfather's tales of a curse. Did you ever hear that story?"

Belle just shook her head. "Maybe you can tell me someday."

"I think I'd like that," he agreed.

He was still looking at her wonderingly, his brown eyes searching her face as if trying to puzzle something out when a honk came from outside.

"Merry Christmas, Mr. Gold," she said, tears shining in her eyes.

"Call me Tristan."

She slipped her hand into his as they headed out onto the gravel walk where an agitated Regina Mills was getting out of a cab. Whatever the future of Bedlay Castle, they would handle it together. As long as there was a Duncan at Bedlay, Belle French would be there to see them through.

Epilogue...

It was a funny thing, so slow and gradual that Belle hardly realized it was happening until one day she found herself talking to Tristan and no longer comparing his every expression to Rumford. And when he kissed her, she wasn't thinking of his resemblance to his long dead great-grandfather, but rather of him. Her Tristan.

And one night, after a long day of working in the gardens of the castle and trying to sort them into proper order, they fell into bed together. And not once did Belle wish it were Rumford's hands trailing over her skin or Rumford's mouth against her neck or Rumford's body giving her such pleasure. It was only Tristan.

And a few weeks later when she told him she loved him, she could no longer see the resemblance at all. For one love was so different from another.

And three years later, when she gave birth to their first child, a boy, Rumford Duncan Gold, she could swear her old friend was smiling down on them.